Bionic Mamas

you're not losing a vagina, you're gaining a son


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Quickies

I hate blog posts apologizing for not posting, so this won’t be one.

Nor do I have a proper post in me now.

But there are a couple of things I think you should know:

1. It’s CD1. Yeah.

Not sure what the next course of action will be, but at the very least we will probably switch donors, since we need to order more anyway. More on that later.

Also, I need to do my taxes so that we can see if we can even afford to order more.

2. Mrs. Spock made me cry. Practically everything’s been making me cry lately, so that’s not much of an accomplishment per se, but she made my cry in a good way. She sent me the …I’m looking for a word, and all I’m coming up with is “bestest”… BESTEST! sock-gram package! It arrived when I was really at the very bottom of feeling crappy about everything, and it was just the very thing. Pictures to come.

3. A toddler I hang out with has been read somewhere — I think in a Moomintroll book, but hers are in Danish, and I can only read the third-rate, adulterated Danish we call “English” — about creatures cheering one another up by kissing sad creatures on the nose. She has become a dutiful practitioner of this technique, which is predictably sloppy and surprisingly effective.

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Civic Duties

Hey, y’all. How in the world are you?

Sorry to be so out of touch in the past couple weeks — I spent the week of the GI/Endo/Black Eye reading everybody’s blog like crazy but too worn out to type comments, and then something went haywire in my brain and I spent this week too depressed to even read.

So…hi. I’m back. I’ve diagnosed myself with a critical chocolate deficiency, and the treatment seems to be helping. That, and I can feel my body getting closer to ovulating, which, while increasingly a time of emotional complexity, is generally the happiest time of the month for me. (We’ll save my rant about how little I like the idea that body chemistry is in charge of my worldview for another day, shall we?) I’m also pleased to report that for the first time since its date with the bookcase, my right eye is as sharp as my left, which has improved my worldview in a very literal sense.

BUT. That is not what I logged on to say. Rather:

Perhaps you have heard about wonderful Weebles Weblog’s Limerick Chick Contest, for which folks have been writing witty verse about other blogs. I had hoped to enter for myself, but, well, see above.

BUT!

It has come to my attention that Kym — Kym, who has only lately organized the sensational Sock It To Me exchange (to say nothing of convincing poor, long-suffering Frank to trade his dignity for donations to the Parenthood For Me benefit) WHILE AT THE SAME TIME kicking infertility’s ass for not just herself but now others (others! I can hardly stand the thought of doing this for myself!) as a surrogate — that Kym, the Kym we’re in awe of, has written a limerick about Our Own Little Blog.

Well. It’s enough to force a girl not to be depressed, that’s what.

So please, head over to Weeble’s and vote for Kym’s poem. Here’s why you should vote for Kym (besides your devotion to her and your bemused interest in your humble servant, of course):


1. Kym’s poem is a real limerick.

I don’t mean to be more of a snob than usual, but it’s a LIMERICK contest. We all love couplets and quatrains and even free verse, but these are not limericks. A limerick, to quote from Roy Blount Jr.’s Alphabet Juice, maybe my favorite book about the English language (and this is saying something for a nerd like me I am) is:

“…two lines of trimeter (three feet) followed by two of dimeter (two feet) with a different rhyme, and one more of trimeter returning to the first rhyme. Generally the intended effect is spicy. For example:

There once was a lady named Dot
Who said as we found a nice spot,
“I never undress
at a picnic unless
It’s warm, and it is, so why not?”

THAT, my friends, is a limerick. Yes, it’s a bit fussy, following the rules like that, but following rules is hot. See: BDSM.

(In his section on meter, Blount exhorts the writer lost in the drudgery of writing to ask, “WWJMD? What would John Milton do?” I think it’s pretty obvious that John Milton would forsake the dreariness of vanilla metric-less freedom for the enlivening strictures of poetic submission. Ahem.)

2. Kym’s poem uses slant rhyme

I am not an un-reserved fan of slant rhyme, which can be only laziness on the poet’s part. However, when slant rhyme serves to emphasize the almost-rhyming word and that emphasis adds meaning or interest to the poem, I’m all for it.

The almost-rhyming word in Kym’s poem is “vaginas.”

3. Kym’s poem has more vaginas than any other poem.

Not just than any other poem in the contest; I think it may have more vaginas than any other poem I’ve ever read. (And I’ve read some truly regrettable stuff, with lots of ocean/cave/shell metaphors and unnecessary goddess references.)

And that’s before the poem even gets around to suggesting a threesome.

Roy Blount, again:

“The intended effect is spicy”

I can’t think why you’d need another reason to vote for her; go to it.